Omnibus Volume 1

by C. M. Carney

“I don’t understand.”

  “Long ago, something happened here. A battle between two powerful users of magic. I believe it was that battle that sent this tower plummeting into the depths of the earth. I think that battle not only made the Barrow, but the Barrow King.”

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  Ovrym eased Wick onto the ground and placed the gnome’s pack under his head. Wick groaned in his sleep but did not wake.

  “My Order is experts of thought magic,” Ovyrm said. “It helps us uncover truths and better enforce the Accords. I am particularly gifted in the art. Perhaps that is why they tolerated a xydai.” The already melancholy man seemed to descend deeper into the darkness of his past for a moment, before coming back to the present. "It is difficult to explain, but a powerful mind infuses the Barrow. Whatever the Barrow King once was, it is now a disembodied mind whose will can alter the very fabric of the dungeon. The Barrow King is weaker than he once was. He is hungry and his ability to alter the Barrow is waning. Good for us. Had we fallen into its trap in his prime, we would have long ago been consumed.”

  “Consumed?”

  “Yes, I don’t know how exactly but the Barrow feeds on life. It lures prey into itself with the promise of treasure and glory and once it has killed them it absorbs their remains.”

  “A Venus flytrap,” Gryph muttered.

  Ovrym gave him an odd look.

  “There is a plant where I’m from that uses a sticky, sweet sap to lure insects into itself. Then it traps and consumes them.”

  “An apt analogy.”

  “And I’m the juiciest of flies,” Gryph said.

  “Whatever happens my odd immortal friend, you must not let the evil in this place take you.”

  Ovyrm locked eyes with Gryph, and he knew that to prevent the Barrow King from attaining the Godhead, the Adjudicator would kill him again and again.

  “Rest if you can. Wick will be unconscious for a few more hours.”

  Gryph nodded and glanced around the small chamber for a place to lie down. Near the far wall was a small alcove covered in worn runes. Curiosity tugged at Gryph, and he walked to the niche. The runes were too faded to make out, but the spot had the feel of an ancient altar. There was something warm and inviting about the spot and before he realized it Gryph had placed his hands on the small altar. A prompt floated into his vision.

  Respawn Point Discovered.

  You have discovered a nexus of power that can be designated as a respawn point. Do you wish to change your respawn point to this location?

  Gryph jumped back in alarm. He already knew that he was functionally immortal but having his ability to return from death so casually tossed in his face was jarring. He let his heart rate cool and then placed his hands back on the altar.

  Do you wish to change your respawn location to this Respawn Point?

  Gryph toggled the YES icon. At the very least, if he died again, he wouldn’t have to traverse the pit of horrors where the black ooze lived. A pulse of warmth flowed from the altar through his arms and into his body. The warmth was relaxing, and Gryph found his mind eased somewhat.

  Congratulations. You have changed your Respawn Point.

  Gryph tried not to dwell on the casual nature the game dealt with death. His eyes drifted over to Wick and Ovyrm, and he knew that neither of his companions were blessed with the same gift. They had one life, which made them more precious. He was starting to wonder if he'd selected the right divine perk.

  What is the point of all this? Gryph thought to himself. Brynn’s face popped into his head again. She'd been terrified, so why had she entered the Realms and where was she now? Whatever part Brynn had wanted him to play, this was not it. He calmed his mind and tried to focus on the task at hand. The plan still hadn’t changed. He needed to get out of the Barrow. Only then could he find Brynn. For now, his greatest chance at success seemed to be with the two men next to him.

  It was time to spend his two saved Perk Points. He was sick of being so easily damaged. Not only did this increase his chance of dying, but it really damn hurt. Gryph opened up his Light Armor perk tree.

  Set Bonus: The bonus to AC when a complete set of light armor is worn.

  Agile Defense: It is easier to move in light armor, thus making it more likely to avoid attacks. The % bonus to AC for light armor.

  Silence: The increase to Stealth while a complete set of light armor is worn.

  Damage Reduction: The reduction to damage when a full set of light armor is worn.

  This choice was a no-brainer. He put one point into Agile Defense and another into Damage Reduction.

  Light Armor Perk Tree

  Tier

  Set

  Bonus

  Agile

  Defense

  Silence

  Reduction

  B

  20%

  25%

  20%

  20%

  A

  30%

  40%

  30%

  30%

  J

  40%

  60%

  40%

  40%

  M

  50%

  80%

  50%

  50%

  GM

  60%

  100%

  60%

  60%

  D

  75%

  2X

  75%

  75%

  Gryph and Ovyrm came up with a plan and then Gryph lay down for some much-needed rest. Several hours later, Ovrym shook Gryph awake. He nodded towards Wick who was sitting up and eating. Gryph stood and went over to Wick, who smiled up at him grimly. The gnome’s skin was still raw and red, but the deep scarring of the acid had healed. His hair was a different matter. Gone were most of the long, flowing azure locks that had once graced the diminutive man’s head. What remained reminded Gryph of the time five-year-old Brynn had given “my dolly a haircut," a mohawk styled by a drunk blind man. But Wick’s smile remained.

  “You look good,” Gryph said.

  “Liar,” Wick said and grasped Gryph by the forearm. “Thank you,” he said. In answer, Gryph nodded. Gryph felt the strong grip on his arm, he saw the intense look in Wick’s eyes and knew that the gnome was a true friend.

  Gryph told Wick the plan he and Ovyrm had conceived while Wick had been resting.

  “Your plan is insane.”

  “You have a better idea?”

  The gnome thought for a moment, before nodding his head no. “Guess we go with insane.”

  Ovrym helped Wick to his feet. “Time to visit some old friends.”

  The men geared up and walked to the secret door that kept this room hidden. They took a moment to ready themselves. Once they opened the door, they would be in the province of the Gray Company.

  “Ready?” the yellow-eyed man asked. Wick and Gryph nodded grimly.

  Ovrym eased his hand into a small crevasse and with a small click the door eased open, exposing stone steps carved directly into the rock. They climbed the stairs and emerged into what appeared to be an ancient storeroom. Massive stone urns that likely once held the water supply when the Barrow had been a tower lined the room.

  After they climbed out, Ovrym twisted an old faucet and two halves of another ancient urn moved with a low grinding noise. Gryph admired the handiwork as the secret passageway sealed itself shut, leaving no trace that this urn was any different from the rest of its brethren.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up,” a deep voice tinged with amusement and danger said and a group of men wielding bows and swords emerged from the shadows.

  38

  “Hello, Dirge,” Ovyrm said, only mildly surprised. “Long time.”

  The man named Dirge emerged from the shadows. He was wiry but held a deadly grace that Gryph had seen in many men. A grace that not only suggested an ability for deadly violence, but a love of it.

  He was nearly a head shorter than both Gryph and Ovrym, with a shaggy mop of unkem
pt hair surrounding a dark-skinned face. Ice blue eyes pierced the distance between them like a laser. A thin scar traced down his left cheek from jaw to cheekbone. As he eyeballed the tall xydai, the man known as Dirge traced the scar with an idle thumb, almost as if he wasn’t aware he was doing it.

  Gryph saw Ovrym tense and knew that the warrior monk had been the one to give Dirge the scar. Gryph got ready for action as this encounter was unlikely to go any better than that one.

  “Been wondering these last few months if you were still alive,” Dirge said as he picked at his fingernails with a wickedly sharp dagger. “But part of me knew you were still around. Part of me knew all I had to do was wait for the sign. I didn’t know the sign would be such a little prick.”

  “No squeeze Xeg, fat hairy thing.”

  A heavy man emerged from the shadows, his sausage fingers clasped around Xeg’s thin neck. When Xeg saw them, it grinned. In anger or joy, Gryph could not tell.

  “Stupid blue-haired midget. See what trouble get Xeg into.”

  “Of course,” Wick grumbled, gripping his staff harder. “I bet you didn’t even try to keep your mouth shut.”

  “Fat hands want crush Xeg’s neck. Xeg like neck just fine. No want crushed. Xeg tell thin ugly scarface what want know. Xeg’s neck stay no crushed.”

  Gryph felt the tension rise as Xeg laid out insults without care of consequence.

  “We have somewhere we need to be,” Ovyrm said in a steady voice, his eyes never leaving Dirge’s.

  “At first I wondered what would bring you back down here,” Dirge said. Then his voice changed to a mockery of Xeg’s. “Pretty lady need save,” Dirge squeaked before the strain of the tone caused him to cough and clear his throat. “Damn, how do you talk like that?” Dirge said, glancing at Xeg.

  “Sound nothing like Xeg,” Xeg pouted.

  Dirge chuckled to himself at the imp’s irritation, but then brought his focus to Gryph. “You are new to the neighborhood, aren't you? How are you liking the accommodations?”

  Gryph said nothing.

  “Oooh, the strong, silent type. My favorite. What’s your name, sugar?”

  “Gryph, and I have no quarrel with you.”

  Dirge walked up to Gryph, running a thin hand along Gryph’s chest and then down his arm and along his back. It was all Gryph could do not to flinch at the man’s predatory attention. This Dirge was skilled in the art of psychological warfare. He was trying to make Gryph uncomfortable. After a moment, sensing that Gryph was no easy target, Dirge gave up on the tactic.

  “You’re the one who stirred up this hornet’s nest aren’t you? The vermin and the dead have been all aflutter these last few days. That’s when you arrived, isn’t it? What makes you so interesting?”

  “Nothing. I’ve been here for weeks,” Gryph said. “So, if you could point the way to the exit, I’ll gladly get out of your hair.”

  Dirge laughed what seemed to be a genuine laugh. “Amusing and attractive,” Dirge said, taking Gryph’s chin in his hand.

  Gryph did his best not to flinch and stared back into the man’s eyes.

  “But I do not think so. You’re new to the Barrow. Your eyes don’t have that sunken desperation the rest of ours do. You still think there’s a way out, don’t you?”

  “There’s always a way out,” Gryph said. “You just have to do what is necessary to find it.”

  “You may be right, my tall friend. And just what will you do to find it?” Gryph felt an odd twinge in his mind as Dirge stared at him. Without thinking he cast Mind Shield. Dirge jumped as the shell snapped around Gryph’s mind

  “Well, that was rude,” Dirge said. “But there are other ways of seeing truths.” Dirge studied Gryph’s face, twirling his knife almost casually as he did. Gryph stared back with an unflinching gaze. He’d faced more skilled interrogators in his day. After a few moments, Dirge understood he would get nothing from Gryph and chuckled slightly.

  "I wouldn’t trust this one, Ovy, he has the look of a man who will stop at nothing to achieve his goals, even if that means tossing you and wee mohawk boy aside like last week’s fling.”

  Wick glowered at the comment, even as Xeg chuckled at the insult. Dirge looked down on Wick. “This one’s yours if I’m not mistaken?” Wick said nothing. “A gnome chthonic summoner? I’m sure that went over well with the family.”

  Wick tensed and gripped his staff tighter. Ovyrm extended a hand to the gnome’s shoulder, warning him with a calm grip. Dirge’s hand whipped up to Ovyrm’s neck and a small bead of blood pulsed from the xydai's jugular.

  Gryph tensed, ready to move, but with a last motion Ovyrm warned Gryph off. A moment later, he collapsed to one knee and then fell onto his side, muscles knotted in paralysis.

  “That was a long time coming,” Dirge said with a satisfied sigh.

  Gryph walked to his fallen friend and felt for a pulse. Ovyrm’s heart was beating at a normal rate and the xydai’s eyes were alert. “What did you do to him?”

  “A little gift,” Dirge said, holding the index finger up. A thin needle protruded from a thimble like apparatus on his right hand. “He’ll be fine in a few hours.” The rogue moved his hands with a flourish, and the thimble disappeared somewhere in the folds of his clothing.

  Dirge kneeled down and traced a line on Ovyrm’s face as if willing a matching scar to appear on the monk’s face.

  “Did Ovy here tell you about me? We used to be the best of pals. Thick as thieves as the saying goes. Which was proper because we are all of us thieves.” Dirge stood and spread his hands around his assembled men. “We were brothers in blood. It broke my heart when I learned he no longer wanted to be buddies. I tried to talk some sense into him, but he wouldn’t have any of it. Even left me with a parting gift.” Dirge rubbed the scar on his cheek with the thumb of his right hand.

  “I’m afraid he didn’t mention you,” Gryph said, causing the wiry man to pause. Dirge did a good job of hiding his irritation, but Gryph saw it still. Dirge smiled and turned away.

  “No? Too bad. We had some good times, Ovy and I. But enough reminiscing about old times. What can I do for you my new, strapping friend?”

  “I want an alliance.” Gryph noticed that several of the men lurking around the cavern were eyeballing Ovyrm in a way that suggested they didn’t quite approve of Dirge or his methods. “With the Gray Company.”

  “Interesting. To what end.”

  “I already told you. I am leaving the Barrow.”

  Dirge laughed again. “I think he just insulted us boys. Apparently without the great and wonderful Gryph, we’re too weak and stupid to figure a way out. Now that he’s here things will be just grand. Soon we’ll be having garden parties and singing songs and frolicking through the trees.”

  Forced laughter spread through the assembled men, and Gryph knew that every one of them pictured that very thing in their minds now. Dirge didn’t have quite the control over his men as he thought.

  “I’m leaving the Barrow, but I need your help.”

  “Okay, I like riddles and games. How?”

  “We’re going to kill the Barrow King.”

  A silence descended upon the room as the audacity of the idea wormed its way into every mind present. Even Dirge looked taken aback for a moment. But then, like a practiced actor getting into character, the thief smiled once more.

  “Good plan, with just one minor issue. You know the Barrow King is already dead, right?”

  “Doesn’t mean he cannot be killed. If the Gray Company will help.”

  Several of the assembled men exchanged glances. It was clear to Gryph that while they still had their lives in the Barrow, they all knew that they were prisoners. For men like these that had to be the worst torture.

  Dirge must have sensed the tide in the room and was desperate to return to the status quo. “It isn’t so bad here. Our little corner of the Barrow is quite nice. It's easily defensible, has plenty of water, a farm, sure it's a fungus and root vegetable farm, but still fr
esh food. We even have our own tavern courtesy of Runveld over there.” Dirge indicated the burly sausage fingered man clutching Xeg.

  Runveld grinned at the praise. Xeg took that moment to kick the brute in his stomach, a motion that earned an annoyed glance from the large Ordonian.

  “No offense to Runveld and his fine fungus brew, but what I’m offering is a chance at life again. It won’t be easy. Some of us may not survive, but at least we’ll retain some control over our own lives.”

  A pulse of anger surged through Dirge as the Aegtyptian sensed the tone of the room turn. He sidled up to Gryph, whispering in his ear.

  “What’s your game friend?”

  “No game,” Gryph whispered back, staring directly down into the thief’s blue eyes. “All I want is to get out. I have somewhere to be.” Gryph leaned in close. Lowering his voice. “And I know what happened between you and Ovyrm. I know the truth.”

  Panic surged into Dirge’s eyes, and Gryph knew that Dirge’s grip on the Gray Company was tenuous. After a long moment where Gryph could feel Dirge’s thoughts testing his mental defenses, Dirge finally grinned. “You know, maybe you are onto something.” He turned back to his fellows and opened his eyes wide. “What say you fellas, feel like getting out of here?”

  A lukewarm cheer rose among the men and many of them gripped their weapons, ready for action.

  “I just have one condition,” Dirge said. “And it is non-negotiable.”

  “Name it.”

  “This one stays behind. Locked up and left.” Dirge nudged Ovrym with a toe. A small grunt came from the xydai’s mouth and his eyes locked onto Gryph’s. “He betrayed the Code. None of us will fight alongside him.”

  Every man of the Gray Company nodded in agreement. Whatever this Code was it apparently held sway over these men. Gryph wished that Ovyrm had told him the truth of his banishment, but if Dirge’s moment of panic was any clue, then it was likely Dirge had been the one to betray this Code.